Day 320: Cromarty to Rosemarkie

With impeccable timing, I return to the East Coast for a yellow weather warning. It’s going to rain — a lot.

Cromarty Ferry only runs in the summer, allowing a 47-mile ‘shortcut’ from Rosemarkie to Tain. I’m staying at Inverness University student halls again, apart from one night wild camping due to public transport restrictions. The coastline and caves immediately north of Rosemarkie are only accessible at low tide, so I’ve switched direction, catching the bus to Cromarty and walking south.

The Cromarty Firth is a graveyard for oil rigs, mothballed in hope of a rebound in oil prices, now doomed for clean energy. There are only two fully accredited shipbreaking yards in the UK. A BBC investigation in 2020 revealed that some of the rigs were destined for Alang in India, to be beached and dismantled by low-paid migrant workers in dangerous conditions, polluting the sea.

Despite the rain and gloom, Cromarty looks lovely, with rows of pretty whitewashed terraced houses running down to the harbour where quirky beach houses sit on the grassy seafront.

A small cinema overlooks the sea. The film schedule, clearly put together with love, slowly washes away.

A signposted path climbs up the South Sutor wooded headland, its northern sibling hidden in the mist. A sutor was a shoemaker, and legend has it that the Sutors are named after two giants guarding the strait, throwing tools to each other across the water.

The headlands were fortified to protect the nearby World War II naval base. A warning sign on a gate draped with thorns is too tempting. I find a couple of overgrown buildings above ground and an underground bunker, although there’s not much to see down there.

A barbed-wire gate bars an inner area. The warning of asbestos works.

Returning to the path, I can hear the sea below the cliff edge to my left, but can’t see a thing. I’m so glad I brought binoculars for dolphin spotting.

MacFarquhar’s Bed, a spectacular sea stack with two arches, lies at the base of a steep and slippery zig-zag descent. The narrow path is flanked by tall ferns, dripping with water and ready to soak a passing hiker.

The deep second arch provides shelter to enjoy a Danish pastry from the excellent bakery in Cromarty.

The shoreline is impossible to follow from this point, so I trudge back up the trail, drenched again by the same overhanging bush, and turn inland along a rough path.

I need to reach Rosemarkie at low tide, but progress is slow, not helped of course by my frequent diversions, so I’m grateful to make up time along unmade roads.

A signpost for Eathie Fishing Station leads to an eerie descent through silent woods, bare branches bleak against the mist, steps cushioned by pine needles, twisting and turning for what feels like an eternity.

It’s a relief to emerge into the open on a sandstone beach.

The Salmon Fishing Station, home for the seasonal crews, is now a bothie, well-used based on the visitors’ log.

The shoreline ahead is rocky, with no obvious path, so I take a faint parallel trail back into the woods, which leads to a small clearing with the remains of a campfire. Pushing on, the gaps between the trunks narrow and the light fades. I try to cut through to the shore, but the route is blocked by bushes bristling with sharp thorns. The dark woods will not let me go. It’s claustrophobic in the gloom. I shiver, spooked and briskly retrace my steps, returning to the open beach and the elements. The bothie disappears behind me.

The impressive rock formations, steep wooded slopes, and ever-present shroud of mist create Jurassic Park vibes. Did something move in the long grass?

Approaching Rosemarkie, I’ve plenty of time to explore the numerous caves.

A moody and enjoyable walk, with lots to explore, despite the constant rain.

It’s a joy to change into dry clothes back at the university. The forecast is grim for the next few days, so I’ll swap wild camping for an extra night in this cosy room. It will make the hiking logistics a challenge, but my socks and shoes are already soaked, and I’d like to dry out as much as possible. Nothing dries in a tent.

Date of walk: Monday 21 July 2025.

Walk distance: 14 miles.

Total distance: 5,230 miles.